


Light of my Life

by Banana Boy (imbetterlive)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Child Eren Jaeger, M/M, Parent/Child relationship - Freeform, Single Dad Levi Ackerman, implications of incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:34:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5026840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbetterlive/pseuds/Banana%20Boy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Levi was only twenty years old, he was handed a child, a check, and sent on his way. This is the story of him and his son, Eren.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light of my Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there.. Sorry for no smut in this one, and no explicit incest, I was feeling like writing something cutesy. Enjoy.

The first time Levi saw Eren, it was in the form of a sonogram slipped into his hand by the beaming mother.

 

Levi was only twenty, in the middle of college. He could see his own life ending as he took on this new one in the form of a sleeping baby.

 

His friend, a girl he’d known since kindergarten, had gotten pregnant and had no way to support the baby with tens of thousands of college debt under her belt and a boyfriend who’d skipped town when he’d heard she was carrying.

 

She had called Levi, hysterical, crying about not wanting her baby to go to a stranger. Levi had never been a pushover, never had his emotions force him into anything, but he was admittedly a little biased when it came to this.

 

He’d grown up unwanted, pushed from foster home to foster home, his cold demeanor and anger-fueled behavior making him unlikable by nearly every parent in the system. He didn’t want the kid to go through that. He would do _anything_ to prevent it from going through that.

 

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d dropped out of college, gotten a full-time job at a small scale business around the corner, and signed the adoption papers. His lawyer handed him his first child support check and he returned home with a car full of baby clothing from the child’s mother.

 

It became evident, as the women grew closer to term, that Levi had absolutely no idea how to parent. He spend the small amount of time he wasn’t working reading about parenthood, and stacks of books from the library piled up on his desk. He pored over every page, trying to convince himself that it wouldn’t be so bad, of course it wouldn’t. Teenagers do this, so why couldn’t Levi?

 

Things went horribly, terribly wrong when Eren arrived. The umbilical cord wrapped around his neck during labor, and the woman died during the emergency surgery. Levi was listed as the emergency contact and so he arrived, disheveled, in the emergency room at four o’clock in the morning.

 

“Is she okay? Where is she?” Levi remembered begging someone, anyone to tell him what was going on. They sat him down and handed him a small bundle.

 

When he looked inside, it was the baby, silent, green eyes wide and staring at Levi. He looked back, and he wept.

 

 

When Eren was one year old, Levi had gotten the hang of things. Sort of.

 

His first word was ‘daddy’. This was expected, but it had come at such a time that Levi had reeled from the simple sound. He had been mushing up bananas and adding the paste to applesauce, one of the only things his picky child would eat, when all of a sudden his son’s voice peeped up from his high chair.

 

“Daddy.” Levi had stopped cold, pivoted on his heel, stared at the chubby toddler with disbelief.

 

“Eren?”

 

“Daddy.” He said again, holding his short arms up. “Ba-na?”

 

Levi looked at his hand, at the half of a banana clutched in it, then back at Eren in disbelieving wonder.

 

“Ba-na?” Eren repeated, sounding significantly less confident this time. Levi inched forward, holding out the banana, looking absolutely ridiculous in the way he stood holding out a piece of fruit like a sword towards his one-year-old kid.

 

Eren took a bite, or rather, gummed at the banana until a chunk came off in his mouth, smiling triumphantly.

 

Levi put the banana down and pulled Eren into his arms.

 

 

When Eren was two years old, Levi understood why they called it ‘the terrible twos’. He screamed all the time, whether it was because he was hungry, wanted to be let out of his playpen, or just simply felt like screaming. Levi would sit in his office on the other side of his apartment, rubbing at his throbbing temples, gritting his teeth.

 

It only took a minute or two of noise until Levi gave in, walking to Eren’s bedroom and picking the child up, who kept screaming. Right in his ear.

 

He held the boy around his pudgy waist, one arm wrapping underneath his bum. He checked his diaper- Eren was learning how to potty train, but he still had accidents- usually that wasn’t it. He brought him to the kitchen, offered warmed milk or applesauce, and sometimes that would calm him down. 

 

If all else failed, he would carry Eren around the small apartment, walk in circles over and over and over until the rocking motion soothed the boy to sleep. He would abandon his work, then, and climb into his own bed, laying the sleeping toddler beside him. Eren would wake up three, four times a night in his crib, but sleeping with Levi he didn’t wake up once.

 

 

By the time Eren was three, he was already having nightmares. They began with a nasty ear infection Eren had developed from getting too much lake water in his ear from the time Levi had brought him swimming with Erwin and Hanji, who were thrilled at Eren’s growth. 

 

Eren would scream and scream for hours, like he had when he was two, but this time it was from pain. Levi took him to the doctor’s over and over, spent thousands of dollars on various treatments and tests and second, third, fourth opinions, but in the end they had to wait it out. 

 

Levi would cover his ears when Eren would cry and plead with Levi to make it stop hurting. 

 

When Eren was four years old, Levi enrolled him in kindergarten. He was absolutely overjoyed to see that Eren made friends easily, excelled in class, blossomed socially.

 

As Eren got bigger, Levi began to realize that his small apartment was not big enough. He went to house showings while Eren was at school, and within a month had closed on a cute little place, two stories, nothing special. It had a pretty front lawn and a white picket fence, just like in every stereotypical family movie ever made. Levi was only a little terrified that Eren would hate it, throw a fit, but it was the opposite.

 

They moved at five o’clock in the morning, too early for both of them, and Levi coaxed Eren out of the car. The boy was a comical sight, fuzzy brown hair sticking up and out, stuffed bunny clutched in his arms and jurassic park t-shirt twisted the wrong way over his tummy. He leaned down, pointing at the house.

 

“This is our new house, sweetheart. We’re going to live here now.”

 

Eren watched for a moment, and then he took off running through the front lawn. Levi cursed and ran after him, dropping his backpack (which held all of Eren’s essentials- an extra stuffed animal, fruit, water, various foods) and chasing his son. Eren just ran to the front door, where a porch swing hung from the overhanging roof, and pawed at the cushion.

 

“Up, papa! Up!”

 

Levi did as he was told, lifting Eren into the seat and smiling as he wiggled around, trying to push himself.

 

He kept a wary eye on Eren as he went back to the car and grabbed the things the moving van hadn’t transported.

 

An hour later, Eren had gone back to sleep, curled up in Levi’s bed, completely ignoring his own (brand new) big-boy bed, which he’d been thrilled about getting. Levi realized slowly that it was less about the bed and more about where he himself was. 

 

 

When Eren was five years old, Levi realized he may have screwed something up along the way.

 

He’d coddled Eren too much, everyone told him, because the boy experienced separation anxiety every time they were apart for more than an hour or two. School, which Eren used to love, became a constant struggle for both him and Levi. Levi would get phone calls in the middle of the day that Eren was crying, Eren was asking for him, Eren was sitting in the corner and refusing to socialize. As soon as Levi would arrive, still wearing his work clothing and holding a briefcase, Eren would come bounding out of nowhere and cling to his leg, chanting his name like a mantra. 

 

Levi brought Eren to therapists, doctors, everyone he could think of. They said he’d grow out of it, and it was something they’d seen in many children who had only one parent. 

 

That got Levi thinking. Was he being selfish, not dating? Not opening himself to possibilities? He’d never really liked someone that way, at least not enough to marry or share his child with. He went on a few dates, but when he tried to explain to Eren that he was going to have another papa, the child had a screaming fit.

 

“No!” He cried, face twisted into an ugly mask as he wailed and sobbed, unable to be consoled. “No, no, I only want daddy!”

 

Levi took that as a sign that the doctors were wrong and quickly ended the relationship. Eren came first, no matter what.

 

 

When he was six years old, Eren was no longer unhealthily attached to Levi.

 

Well, he _was_ , but it wasn’t as obvious.

 

He was involved a lot more at school, and Levi was constantly taking time off of work to come to see his class sing songs, perform skits that no one else could understand, to watch Eren present on pirate culture with a cloth eyepatch over one eye and an enormous grin on his face. The look in the boy’s eyes when he saw Levi in the audience, the unabashed joy and excitement that lit up his features, made Levi swear to himself he’d never miss anything important to his son, not ever.

 

The boy was shooting up like a weed. He was half Levi’s height already, which was just a little frightening. He grew out of his shoes nearly every month, and Levi spent an obscene amount of money trying desperately to clothe his growing son. Eventually he just began buying clothing in extra large- it was baggy, yes, but it would last Eren months, and he seemed to like the size, anyway.

 

 

When he was seven, Levi wanted to throttle Eren most of the time.

 

He was a constant source of energy, desperate for attention, running around the house screaming and breaking things and tugging at Levi’s sleeve, begging for him to play whatever stupid game his mind had conjured.

 

Levi had lost his job, and was trying to make ends meet, which was difficult to do when there was a kid rolling around on the couch with a bowl of pasta perilously close to the expensive white cushions. That year, Levi yelled at Eren for the first time in his life, and it was _loud_.

 

Sure, it felt good to get the frustration out, but the look of fear in Eren’s eyes was enough to make Levi sick to his stomach. He watched helplessly as the boy tried to hold back tears, dumping his uneaten pasta into the sink and retreating into his room. 

 

Levi tried to go in to apologize but was met with several words Eren was too young to be saying and a pillow thrown at the door. He went to bed alone that night for the first time in seven years. 

 

It was one, maybe two in the morning when his door creaked open. He opened his eyes, disconcerted, to see a miserable-looking Eren standing in the doorway with his blanket clutched to his chest and his eyes red and irritated. 

 

Levi welcomed him into his bed with open arms and held him while he cried once more, whispering apologies into his soft hair until the sun rose.

 

Eight, nine, and ten passed rather quickly. Eren took up soccer, and Levi got him a dog to take up his time, which he cared for meticulously. Levi was surprised to say the least when he couldn’t find a single dog hair on any couch or chair or bedsheet. The dog died a few weeks after Christmas when Eren was ten, and Levi’s heart ached when he’d watch Eren continue to meticulously fill its old food bowl with dog food.

 

Levi sat out in the freezing cold for hours to watch Eren play soccer. He didn’t mind too much- he’d promised himself long ago not to miss something Eren was excited about, and there was an enormous amount of pride that swelled in his chest when Eren made a goal or made a good pass. 

 

Eren would run to him after the game, throw himself onto Levi, sweaty and panting, squirming like a puppy. Levi would just laugh and pat his back, hand him a bottle of water, ruffle his damp hair and guide him back to the car. He thought maybe, just maybe, he was learning to be a good parent. There was something so incredibly grounding about the fact that he was everything to Eren, that he was in charge of another human life, that Eren loved him more than anything in the world. 

 

 

Eleven and twelve were hell. Eren started middle school and met a boy named Jean, whom he instantly clashed with. The first time Levi picked Eren up outside of school and saw a bruise on his shoulder and a split lip, he was ready to beat the shit out of whoever dared to touch his baby. Eren just whined.

 

“I’m not a kid anymore, dad.”

 

“You’ll always be my kid.” Eren just scoffed and rolled his eyes, akin to the teenage years he was creeping up on, but Levi saw him smile in the rearview mirror. 

 

It all came to a standstill when Eren came home with a black eye, face wet with tears. Levi cupped his face, rage bubbling up in the back of his throat, unable to ignore it.

 

“Jean?” He asked, and Eren shook his head.

 

“High s-schoolers,” he sniffled, wiping at his running nose. Levi only got angrier. How dare they? How dare those kids hurt someone so much younger than them? How dare they hurt _Eren_?

 

If it was up to Levi, he’d head over to Eren’s school right now, give those bullies a taste of their own medicine. But this was the real world, and that was illegal, so he did the next best thing.

 

He taught Eren to fight.

 

They spent hours on the weekend, Levi shirtless, Eren in cutoff jean shorts and a tank top, roughhousing until one of them called uncle. 

 

Eren got into the car one afternoon, and the first thing Levi saw was his bruised knuckles. 

 

When he looked up, his son was wearing an enormous, proud grin, displaying his hurt hands to Levi.

 

“Look, dad! Look what I did!”

 

Levi examined his hands.

 

“Christ, kid. Did you break a nose or two at least?” 

 

Eren laughed and sat back in his seat, and his giddiness made Levi smile too.

 

That night, Levi received a furious call from the school, wanting to expel Eren for fighting on campus. Levi calmly explained to them that if they tried to do such a thing, he would make sure his lawyer knew that the boys had hurt Eren too, and they’d find a more capable school to send Eren to. Well, that was paraphrasing, there were a lot more choice words in the original statement. Levi never heard from them about it again.

 

 

At thirteen, puberty hit Eren like a bus. Levi found it almost amusing, watching the boy dart from the couch and the dinner table and the front yard when arguably the worst part of puberty struck- the unprovoked boners. He didn’t mention it in an effort to spare Eren some humiliation, and picked up the conversation as though Eren had never left when the boy returned with a hilariously red face and scrubbed-clean hands.

 

 

He found it amusing, to be completely honest. He'd been through such things as well not so long ago. He was over thirty now, thirty-three to be exact, but it felt like no more than a year had passed since he'd first held the tiny bundle that was Eren in his arms. 

 

When Eren was fourteen, Eren smoked a cigarette for the first time. Levi had caught him on the porch with a friend, and as soon as the friend had left Eren burst into tears and begged for forgiveness. It still pained Levi to see his son cry, even at this age. He patted Eren's head and assured him he wasn't angry, but banned him from seeing that friend again in an effort to squash any thoughts the kid might have of continuing to experiment with, God forbid, stronger things. Eren tearfully agreed.

He had his first girlfriend at this age, too. They broke up within two weeks, and less than a month later Eren was dating a boy. A nice one, too. Levi liked him, though he had to refrain from becoming too overprotective. To him, Eren was still his baby, but the boy was already in high school.

 

At fifteen, Eren still slept in his father's bed every night. Certainly others might think it strange, but neither of them gave it a second thought. It was just natural for them. Eren's bed was only used when he had friends sleep over, and every other night was spent in his father’s.

It was a routine by then. Levi would be in bed by ten-thirty, reading or finishing up work on his laptop. He'd never really imposed a bedtime on Eren, as he trusted the boy, and knew he would teach himself the hard way to go to bed in a timely fashion if all else failed. Usually the kid would show at around eleven, eleven-thirty. He'd set his homework on the bed, which Levi would go over to ensure he'd done all of it. While he did so, the teenager would shower, brush his teeth, and change into pyjamas. 

 

By the time Eren returned to Levi's room it was midnight, and Levi had put Eren's homework on his side of the bed. He was most likely half-asleep already, but when Eren crawled into the bed and settled down under the covers, he'd always roll over and give the boy a goodnight kiss on the forehead. Eren got grumpy if he didn't. They'd fall asleep together, and sometimes Eren would search out Levi's hand or arm or waist underneath the covers. 

 

Eren was his sun, his moon, the light of his life. His entire being revolved around this one child, this person he'd raised from just a baby, this sweet boy who loved him and made sure he knew it. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he'd not taken on parenthood, if someone else had adopted Eren. He didn't like to think about it very often. 

Levi didn't love many things, but oh, did he love Eren. His heart ached with it sometimes, when he'd hear his friends complain about their children never listening to them and sneaking out and yelling at them for mundane things. He'd never experienced that. Eren would text him once or twice while he was at school and Levi was at work, with pictures of his test scores of grades or him with a friend, accompanied with a small message asking how Levi's day was going, or what they were having for dinner. It was enough to keep Levi smiling throughout the rest of the day until he picked his son up from school.

Eren hadn't cared when Levi told him he was adopted. He was only eleven at the time, and he had paused for a moment before hugging Levi. "I love you the most, dad." Was all he'd said, and it was enough. Eren was enough. He always would be.

**Author's Note:**

> :'-)


End file.
